


Pep Talk

by Zeshaika



Category: Good Game (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen, Lowkey Rylex, Mostly Platonic, Scene Rewrite, Some minor spoilers for Good Game Ep6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 12:45:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12276747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeshaika/pseuds/Zeshaika
Summary: An alternate take on a scene between Ryland and Alex during Episode 6.





	Pep Talk

      Buzzing silence echoed like the humming of flies through the small enclosed space of the van as Ryland gripped the steering wheel.  His eyes focused forward as the ribbon of  pavement rolled underneath  the wheels below him, pushing the convention center further behind him as it drew him closer to his apartment.  The farther away from Killcore and Blood Match, the sooner he could get back to his old life, and forget about all of this.   
  
     _What life?_ he wondered, bitterly.  The life where he was some depressed loser sitting in his filthy apartment playing video games while his roommate sat next to him getting higher than the moon?    
  
   _Yeah right_ , he grimaced, _some fucking life_.   
  
    But then, he thought, at least on his couch nobody had any stupid preconceived notions about who he was and who he was supposed to be based on some stupid thing from when he was an idiot teenager. At least there, he could forget about being Boogerboss, the DOTA legend and idiot teenager so obsessed with MOBAs that he had a viral meltdown over it.  
  
       And yet, a pang of regret still cut at his heart like a diamond-plated razor. He was letting his team down, it reminded him. And why? Why was he running away?  
  
       Ryland’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel more tightly, his thoughts bouncing back and forth in his head like the world’s most irritating game of tennis that not even Sam could have found entertaining.

       Suddenly, a gentle tapping behind him pierced through his thoughts like a ray of sunshine through a hazy fog.  Confused, he reached up, pushing the button, rolling down the black fiberglass and plastic window that separated the driver’s seat from the rest of the van.    
  
    Like a flower blooming toward the sunlight of early spring, a curly mop of chestnut curls  peeked out from the backseat.   
  
    “Hey buddy,” Alex said shyly.  
  
    Ryland jumped, his hands loosening their grip on the wheel, causing the van to swerve slightly before he quickly wrestled back control. _What the hell was Alex doing here_?! He wondered.  Surely, he should have been on his way to taking that coaching offer with Steamin they'd talked about last night by now. At least, until Steamin realized that Ryland had slipped back into shamed retirement, and thus had no use for Alex, anymore.  
  
    “What the hell?!” Ryland yelped in surprise.  
      
    “I figured you’d try to run,” Alex replied with a smirk, “So, I slept here last night. Plus I horribly miscounted the hotel rooms, so I had nowhere else to go.”  
  
    “You could have just asked to crash with me,” he said  
  
    “After what happened at the party?” Alex laughed humourlessly, “Yeah, sure. Like that wouldn’t have been awkward as fuck.”  
      
    “Okay,” Ryland sighed, “Fair point.”  
  
    “So,” Alex asked, quickly changing the subject, “Where are we going, anyways?”  
  
    “Home,” Ryland said bluntly, his eyes narrowing as he glared firmly at the road ahead of them.  
  
    “ _Home?!_ ” the curly haired man asked, his eyebrows arched in disbelief, “You’re really gonna pretend that you don’t care?! Like you’re giving up? On Ash, on Sam, on Lorenzo, on Kamal?”  
  
    “What,” the younger man said with a sarcastic smirk, “Are you calling Santa’s reindeer or something? I know everyone’s names, dude.”  
  
    Alex seemed to ignore the comment as his brown eyes lowered, unable to make direct contact with Ryland’s own brown eyes. Another ache punched at Ryland’s insides, making him want to cry. His best friend looked like a stray puppy who’s owner had yelled at him and abandoned him.  Part of Ryland wanted nothing more than to give him a hug, and tell him that everything would be okay.  
  
    “ _Are you giving up on me_?”   
  
    “Like you gave up on me?”  
  
    Alex looked as if he’d been hit square in the chest with a ten-pound sack of bricks. Again, Ryland couldn’t help but feel guilt as his friend’s posture became even more withdrawn and confused, trying to make sense of the weight of Ryland’s words in his mind. But, at the same time, Ryland was too upset to not let those words hang heavy between them.  
  
    “What are you talking about, dude?” Alex replied, “You know that I’d never give up on you!”  
  
    Ryland sighed. He was right, he thought. As much as Alex and his endless, sunny optimism irritated him, and no matter how much he subconsciously tried to push him away for his own protection, Alex wasn’t the type of person to truly give up on someone that easily. Not when he cared about them too much.   
  
    “Look,” he confessed, “ When I saw you being all buddy-buddy with Steamin--fuck, I dunno, something in me just broke, I guess. Like, I hated that he thought you were an idiot and that he could just use you like that to get to me. And, then it was just like there was this little voice that was was just like " _Do you really think you're that good? Is everything in your life about this stupid fucking game?_ "”  
  
    He sighed again, staring out at the road with a far away gaze.  
  
    “I dunno,” he continued, “I guess I got scared or something. Scared that I’d built my life around something as stupid as some eSports thing. Scared that I’m wasting my life with this. I can’t do this dude.”  
  
    Now it was Alex’s turn to heave a sigh as he ran a hand through his thick curls.  
  
    “We can't all be first responders, best selling authors or neuroscientists finding the cure for cancer,” he said, “Some of us have to find other things to do. You just gotta find something that your good at and do it. And you’re good at MOBAs, dude.”  
  
    “I’m still that stupid kid in that video,” Ryland protested.  
  
    Faster than either man could blink, Alex’s expression had changed again. This time, a cold sternness that the other man had never seen before, painted his countenance. It was almost terrifying in how alien and out of place it seemed to be on his face.   
  
    “Pull the car over,” Alex ordered  
  
    “What?”  
  
    “Just pull the fucking car over.”  
  
    Hesistantly, Ryland obeyed, pulling into the nearest parking lot he could find. He was sure that if looks could kill, the look that the older man was giving him at that moment could have easily destroyed him five times over by now.  
  
    “Look at me, Ry.”  
  
    Again, Ryland obeyed, their eyes meeting.  And yet again, he sees a change in his roommate's expression. The cold, demanding sternness that briefly controlled him had faded into something softer and gentler. And yet, all the same, the light behind his friend and coach’s eyes glimmered with something that Ryland had only seen a few times before in the few years they’d known each other:  
  
      
    “Your not the kid in the video, anymore” Alex said, “Nobody is the person that they used to be in the past. People change, man.”  
  
    Alex leaned in just slightly closer, looking deeper into Ryland’s eyes, as if about to share some life changing secret.  
  
    “I might not have known Boogerboss the DOTA legend,” he continued, “But I do know Ryland Tate the person. You’re an amazing human being, dude! You’re handsome, you’re caring,  you’re smart, funny and talented. No matter what some losers like Steamin or any other jerks out there try to tell you.”  
  
    Again, the curly haired man looked away, his eyes staring fixedly on the floor in front of him.   
  
    “Look,” he continued, “I know that I’m probably not the best thing to happen to you. But, you’re the best thing to happen to me. You’re my best friend, and I just want you to be happy. Fuck, that’s why I got us into this whole Killcore thing--because I figured that doing it would make you happy.”  
  
    “Oh right,” Ryland scoffed, “And the whole ' _win a million dollars_ ' thing didn’t factor into it at all.”  
  
    “Man,” Alex replied, “I don’t care about the money. I care about _you_. It hurts me that you won’t let you see the good in yourself because of some stupid shit that happened in the past. The past is behind you, dude.”  
  
    An eternity stood still in a moment of silence as the two’s eyes once more locked with one another. Ryland felt as if he were seeing Alex for the first time in his life.   
  
    He saw no trace of Alex Taylor, the goofy, happy-go-lucky eSports Coach who crashed on his couch all the time. Instead, this was the Alex Taylor who talked from a place of pure, sober honesty.   
  
    This was the Alex Taylor who’d been beaten down by  failure and heartbreak far more than he would have liked.   
  
    This was the Alex Taylor that, despite all that, still knew how to dream, how to have hope for himself and others.  
  
    And yet, he knew that this was the Alex Taylor that had always existed. This was the Alex Taylor that believed in him when nobody, not even himself, would.  
  
    This was his best friend.

  
  
    “This is you’re life, Ryland,” Alex said, “Don’t be afraid to live it.”

  
  
    That’s what it was, Ryland thought to himself, staring back at the road ahead, wasn’t it?  He was afraid of living his life.

    Why was he afraid of doing this for a living? Was he afraid that losing would bring about another freakout like the one that’d forced him to retire in the first place? Or, did this go even deeper, he wondered? Was he afraid that if they won, fame would go to his head and he’d turn into another scumbag pro-gamer like Steamin?   
  
    But, Alex was right. He wasn’t that angry kid in that video, anymore. That kid grew up. He had experiences, met new people, made decisions both good and bad that’d changed who he was and how he saw the world.    
  
    He had friends who he really cared about, and who cared about him just as much. Some of which he never would have met had it not been for Killcore.   
   
    Friends like Sam, and Ash, and Lorenzo and Kamal.   
      
    Friends like Alex.   
  
    He couldn’t let them down. They needed him just as much as he needed them.   
  
    It didn’t matter if they won or lost, he thought, because he still had a lot he needed to prove to everyone. He still had a lot he needed to prove to himself.   
  
    “So,” Alex said, holding his hand out, “What do you say we go back there and win this thing?”  
  
    A smile spread across Ryland’s lips. For once, it was not just the faint twitches of a smirk, but rather a full blown smile. It seemed to light up the small space of the van with a radiance of a thousand suns, making Alex smile as well.   
  
    “Let’s do this,” Ryland said  
  
    “Together?”  
  
    Ryland clasped the other man’s hand in his own, giving it a small squeeze as they continued to grin at one another in silent understanding.   
  
    “Together. Forever”

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, it's seriously been a couple years since I've actually written any kind of fic! Anyways, I really hope you all enjoyed this little ficlet. ^_^


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